


Moondust

by outindaylight



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunken Flirting, F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10063487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outindaylight/pseuds/outindaylight
Summary: Sure he had always played along with her flirting, but it was meant to be harmless and nothing was to ever come of it. He had only ever reacted with unruffled, distant amusement as he returned the favor. He had never initiated it before or looked at her the way he was now. Solas just seemed so much…Hungrier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 3/6/17: I decided to add the beginning of this chapter for context, just in case I ever decide to post/write more of it. Sorry if this is confusing for anyone!
> 
> This is just a short excerpt from a story I started a while ago and will probably never finish, but I'm still not out of Solavellan Hell and decided to post some of it. Also, the songs I put at the beginning are pretty much my go-to Solas/Lavellan songs and they suit the chapter very well, so I threw them out there in case anyone else wanted to suffer with me. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Soundtrack:  
> 1\. Moondust by Jaymes Young  
> 2\. I Found by Amber Run  
> 3\. I Know You Care by Ellie Goulding  
> 4\. Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars  
> 5\. Lost On You by LP  
> 6\. What If by Safety Suit

Things were quickly getting out of hand.

On the way to Redcliffe, they had stumbled upon an abandoned supply cache which contained a ridiculous amount of alcohol and it became a challenge to see who could carry the most bottles. When it was time to settle down for the night, they took over an old Templar camp that had been cleared out on their last trip, so there wasn't much for them to do and the group had taken to passing the bottles around the fire before bed.

“Slow down, Buttercup,” Varric warned. “You won’t be doing much tomorrow if you keep that up.”

Rather than heeding his words, Sera instead tipped the bottle back, taking another fearless swig and let out a wild giggle. Varric only shook his head, sighing, while Blackwall let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

“Good thing you’re small. Someone will be carrying you tomorrow,” Blackwall said.

“Don’t take that crap! You can finish it!” Bull yelled, encouraging her.

Meanwhile, Ellana and Krem were standing beside the fire, facing one another.

“Like this?” he asked, holding out his hand out to the side.

“No, more like--” Ellana grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers and she raised them over their heads. “--that. And then you go around in a circle like this.”

Ellana spun in a little circle, keeping her hand high and swiveling her hips. All the while she kept a loose hold on Krem’s hand, making his whole face turn pink and he didn’t seem to know where to look.

“Then you go dun-dun-dun...like this, with your feet.”

“I don’t think I can handle all that footwork,” Krem said, shaking his head as he watched her move and he was red now, but he did not take away his hand.

“We’ll work on it,” Ellana said, laughing and she released him. “For now, just remember to keep your hand high and swoop it low after the turn. That’s Elgar’nan burying the sun in the abyss.”

“Yeah, you could stand to be a little more graceful,” Bull observed, nodding his head and grinning widely. “Maybe you wouldn’t get hit so much.”

“Thanks, chief, but I think you’re still the biggest target on the field,” Krem replied rapid fire.

“Hell yeah, I am!” Bull agreed, taking the jab as a compliment.

“What are you doing, Firefly?” Varric asked.

“The eight dances of the Creators. They tell the stories of the elven pantheon,” Solas spoke up for her. “A common practice for the Dalish, yes, lethallan?”

Ellana was thrown slightly, surprised by how respectful his tone was compared to their other conversations about her people. Maybe he really was making an effort to keep an open mind?

“There are nine, actually,” Ellana corrected him, feeling slightly proud of it.

“Nine?” he asked, looking confused.

“Elgar’nan, Mythal, Sylaise, June, Andruil, Falon’din, Dirthamen, Ghilan’nain, and Fen’harel,” Ellana ticked them off. “There other dances too, but those are the most sacred.”

Solas frowned now.

“I did not know your people honored the Dread Wolf so,” he murmured quietly, looking thoughtful.

“It’s not as cheerful as the others, that’s for sure. It’s more of a warning really,” Ellana explained. “But there is a certain sort of reverence in fear.”

“I see. Yes, that makes sense,” Solas agreed, looking down.

“Wait, hold up on the elfy shite. So you twits really do dance bare-ass in the moonlight?” Sera slurred, smirking.

Ellana threw her head back in a loud bark of laughter, grabbing Krem’s shoulder for support as the camp reeled.

“Oh, yeah! Every night!”

“Wait, you are joking...right?” Blackwall asked, looking a mix between curious and embarrassed to have spoken up at all. “I thought that was all just stories.”

“Mythal’s Mercy!” Ellana cried. “Those are the stories you guys tell about us?”

“Well hop to it, Lady Herald,” Sera said, clapping her hands. “Moon’s out. Drop your knickers! I wanna watch.”

“To the Void with that!” Ellana disagreed, laughing. “I’ll do it if you do it! All of you!”

“I can get behind this,” Bull agreed brazenly, eyeing Ellana playfully. “I’ve been wondering if those tattoos cover more than your face.”

Ellana lost it at that.

“Not you, Bull! You’re not even wearing a shirt right now!”

“I just have a head start,” Bull said, shrugging. “So what?”

“Chief,” Krem groaned, covering his face with his hand while keeping a firm arm on Ellana to stop her from tumbling over as she howled.

“I think this is when I take my leave,” Solas announced to no one in particular, grabbing his bag and heading towards the forest without looking back.

“Knew it!” Sera yelled.

“Aw, come on, Chuckles,” Varric said. “Nothing wrong with taking a little breather every now and again. It might be good for you to let your hair down, figuratively speaking of course.”

“Ha!” Sera snorted and choked on her drink, sputtering into hysterics.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Solas called over his shoulder.

While everyone laughed amongst themselves, Ellana quieted to watch Solas’ silhouette disappear into the treeline. She considered following after him, but no. If he wanted to be alone, or at least away from their drunken antics, let him. She had started to forgive him for his words about the Dalish, but she was still herself and she liked to have fun.

And they did.

Many, many empty bottles later and they had to drag Iron Bull and Sera into their tents. Sera was a breeze and Ellana could manage her easily on her own, but it took everyone left standing to get the Qunari into bed. Krem patted Ellana’s back with a clumsy hand and dropped inside the tent after him. Blackwall and Varric groggily muttered their goodnights and clamored into their tent. Ellana was just about ready to slip into the tent with Sera when she glanced over and saw the other, still empty tent.

Krem was supposed to share with Solas since everyone agreed that Bull probably needed the space but Krem had just defaulted to the closest tent at that point. Solas not only missed many rounds Diamondback and Wicked Grace, Varric had convinced the reluctant group to wager stories and coin rather than clothes, but also had lucked out with his own tent. He got to keep all of his money and sleep alone! That wasn’t fair.

Where was he anyway? Why hadn’t he returned by now? It was getting very late and they would be regretting everything the next day. Surely Solas would want to be sleeping too since it was his favorite thing to do.

Ellana didn’t think about it much. She grabbed her staff and charged right out into the forest, sending out small wisps of her mana as she felt for him, like little feelers that nudged her in the right direction. During their time together, Ellana had become quite familiar with his magic and was convinced that she could find him if he hadn’t wandered too far.

Thankfully her drunken idea was right.

She caught the buzz of his energy not too far off. She followed it until it thrummed through the air and she stopped herself short before walking directly into a set of ice mines that blocked her from reaching the bank of a natural spring. From what she could tell, the mines surrounded the whole circumference of the small body of water and it was well protected from any intruders. She looked past them to the water and could see a fire rune glowing under the surface, laid into the bed, just like she would do if she wanted a hot bath…

Her heart began to pound, louder than it had been while she had been dancing and laughing with the others just moments ago, and it was perhaps spurned on by the whiskey in her veins. Confirming her suspicions, she could see the neatly folded pile of clothes on the bank, worn bag, and staff resting on top within the safe circle of the mines. It was definitely Solas.

Ellana knew she should head back to camp and let him have his privacy. It’s not like she could disarm his mines without causing a ruckus anyway and knowing the apostate, there were other, hidden wards in place. But she didn’t see him anywhere.

What if something had happened to him?

She closed her eyes and made herself focus, trying to look past the resonating energy of his active spells. If he was nearby, she should be able to feel him and then she could leave him to his devices. Ah, wait. Was that…

“I never took you for a peeping Tom, lethallan.”

Ellana flinched and her eyes flew open, surprised to see Solas where he hadn’t been before, leaning on his elbows on the edge of the bank as he gazed up at her. The small spring was apparently deep enough for him to sink down to his shoulders in. It clicked way too late that he must have been using some illusion to make himself invisible from onlookers. Lo and behold, he was grinning with such infuriating, smug satisfaction upon discovering her that even Ellana couldn’t stop herself from feeling embarrassed.

Alcohol, blame it on the alcohol.

“Pala adahl’en!” she swore with more vigor than necessary. “I was worried about you! You’ve been out here forever!”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I felt you reaching out for me.”

Etunash. In her fuzzy mental state, she had forgotten that sensing mana went both ways. He would know she was looking for him just as soon as she picked up on his trail. She wondered why he didn’t do anything to cover the tracks of his presence since he was normally so careful, but before she could ask he swept his hand across the ground, dispelling the magic of his mines and whatever other unseen wards he had placed. The path between them was clear.

“Would you care to join me?” he asked, nodding towards the space in the water beside him.

Ellana’s heart crept into her throat, chasing away any snarky comment she might have had for him, and the heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with the bottles she helped empty before. He noticed. His eyelids narrowed, his gaze especially dark with only the dull glow of fire rune and the moon far overhead to illuminate him in the night, and his lips curved upwards at one corner into something more akin to a smirk than a smile.

“I only just got in myself and the water is very warm,” he encouraged, obviously teasing now.

Ellana was not particularly modest, sharing bedrolls for warmth and the whole clan bathing in the same stream had seen to that. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons shems thought the Dalish were wild savages. They respected and admired the naked body rather than fall apart at the smallest flash of skin. Still, as she took the few, short steps to stand in front of him on the bank, it felt like her stomach had coiled itself into knots. Then she noticed the tall bottle of Orlesian wine leaning against his bag next to a small vial of soap. She hadn’t seen him snag it from the cache and it was empty.

“You’ve been drinking,” she realized.

That would definitely explain the way he was acting. Sure he had always played along with her flirting, but it was meant to be harmless and nothing was to ever come of it. He had only ever reacted with unruffled, distant amusement as he returned the favor. He had never initiated it before or looked at her the way he was now. Solas just seemed so much…

Hungrier.

“As have you,” he replied, reaching out for the bottle and as he examined the label, little droplets of water ran down the length of his arm to gather in the crook of his elbow. “Perhaps Varric was right and I needed to...ah, let my hair down?”

Ellana was distracted by how solemn he sounded as he said that. His expression gave nothing away and he quickly smiled up at her once more, whatever thought he had before passing. He sat the bottle back down.

“You need not worry about me,” Solas continued. “I’ll find my way back to camp eventually. You can go back, but thank you for taking the time to check on me. It is much appreciated, lethallan.”

His words rang out like a dismissal. Like a ha’hren sending his da’lan to bed and even though he had promised not to call her such, the implication was clear. Ellana was a messy mix of determined and spiteful as she bent over to place her staff next to his. It was satisfying to see Solas’ brows raise in surprise before he politely turned his back on her. He did not say anything to dissuade her but instead waded further down the bank to give her the semblance of privacy.

The water was shallower there. He stood to his full height, the ripples lapping up the small of his back and the trees opened up to the night sky, moonlight pooling around him. The soft, pale light suited him and complimented his fair skin. As she unbuckled her tunic, she examined his lean, willowy figure and appreciated the fact that although he had several years on her, his frame was well-kept, compactly muscular from the constant travel and combat. He was taller than most elves, straight back, strong shoulders, long ears.

Almost like something out of a painting.

She slid in and as Solas promised, the water was deliciously warm. Her blood was already heated from drink and she felt herself practically melt into the spring. The water seemed to wash away all the aches and tension of the day. She could smell elfroot and embriums; she wondered if Solas had slipped some into the water. She swam out closer to the center so she could keep her most scandalous parts covered and she tread carefully over the rocky bed.

“Alright, this was exactly what I needed,” Ellana hummed. “Good call, Solas.”

He turned slowly, looking oddly hesitant despite his bold gaze and remarks before. Maybe he didn’t expect her to call him on his bluff. Well, now he knew better.

Ellana did not miss the fascinated way Solas studied her, the way he might pore over an ancient tome or his own notes of research, nor the way his gaze wandered down, tracing the waterline that cut across her shoulders and collarbones. She stared back evenly, letting him, and she refused to reveal how shaky her heartbeat had become. A ragged, nervous beat that made her feel like a teenager again and brought back memories of quick tumbles in aravels that eventually ended in heartbreak.

After a small eternity, he seemed to catch himself and exhaled slowly. Could he have been holding his breath as she was? His silverite-colored eyes flickered upwards and focused past her, in the general direction of the camp.

“Is the party still on?”

“No, but you should have stayed,” Ellana said. “It was fun.”

“I could not hear much from out here, but enough to know that I was much better off where I was,” Solas said. “To each their own.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ellana threw out, smirking. “No one back at camp managed to get me out of my smalls.”

Be it the wine or the situation, Solas was caught completely off guard by that comment and let out a sharp, warm snort of laughter. Ellana was beyond pleased as he ran a wet hand down the length of his face as if to compose himself and wipe away his grin. It didn’t work.

“Well, it is no fault of mine that they lack the capacity to do so,” Solas replied, chuckling, and he shook his head slightly at her. “Or are you just incredibly easy to talk out of your clothes, lethallan?”

“Maybe. For the right person.”

The change in Solas’ expression was almost imperceptible, but Ellana was close enough to see his jaw clench and brow twitch ever so slightly. Whatever joke Ellana had been about to continue on with died on her tongue and her mouth went dry. Why did he look so undone, mere seconds away from snapping? She had no idea but she liked that she might be the cause.

“Soap?” he asked suddenly, closing his eyes and turning away.

Ellana did not respond but Solas retrieved it from beside the wine bottle anyway. He moved closer to her, within arm’s reach, and offered it to her. She accepted it, slick fingers sliding against one another’s as it passed from his hand to hers. She thought his hand lingered slightly, but not long enough for her to be positive.

“Ma serannas.”

She could not find it in herself to speak above a whisper. She was affected. She could blame the full moon or the alcohol or random happenstance, but it would be a lie. She wanted Solas right there under the stars. Maybe it had been like that for a while now and she just didn’t want to admit it. Could he possibly feel the same?

“Sathem.”

He was whispering too, low and husky like his words were catching in his throat. Ellana had to act. She started to gather her hair atop her head to tie it back with the ribbon around her wrist, arms raised over her head and chest pushing past the surface of the water just enough to give a small, purposeful display. A tease, a taunt.

She had to know for sure.

He didn’t hesitate to devour the sight, acting like a totally different person from the quiet and unassuming apostate she had come to know. His heated gaze traced the length her arms, her shoulders, the hollow of her neck, and over the exposed curves of her bust. His lips parted, breathing hard, and his eyes shot up to hers unabashedly, irises almost completely hidden by the black of dilated pupils save for a thin, sliver of pale blue around the rim. He looked almost like a cornered animal, hands freezing in the water as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Creators, he wanted her too.

He had to. She was not imaginative enough to see a need that was not there. She could feel the tension building, like a current of electricity running through the water between them. She had to close the distance or she might burst. She took a small step.

“Ellana.”

His voice had lowered even further, growling her name. Was it in warning or anticipation? She didn’t know, but it was more than enough to make every muscle in her body clench. She wanted him in any way he would have her and to spend another moment apart was too much to bear.

“Solas,” she breathed, reaching out for him now.

The tips of her fingers barely brushed against the flat of his chest before he was quickly stepping backward, water sloshing up between them. Ellana’s hand remained outstretched and she cocked her head, confused. She was so sure that they longed for each other in the same way. That they could be so much more to one another.

It was only when he started to shake his head slowly that she understood.

She had misread Solas once again.

“...telaan, lethallan,” he was saying, his voice barely making it past the sudden roaring in her ears. “I... _we_...forgive me.”

Ellana immediately recoiled, wrapping her arms snugly around her chest and she squeezed the soap vial so tightly in her palm that it hurt. He did not reach out to her, arms stiff at his sides as he watched her warily like a parent might watch their unruly toddler. It was too much. She hastily retreated further into the water as if it would swallow up her mortification, but it didn’t, and so she started to laugh. Too hard, too loud, too long.

“Lethallan?” Solas asked, his tone shifting towards concerned.

“Gods, no more whiskey ever again,” she declared, still tittering and she slowly trailed off, sighing. “Fen’Harel ver’em.”

Solas was quiet, saying nothing. Good. She didn’t know what he would even say, but nothing could make the situation any better. Only worse.

“I'll leave you to your bath.”

Ellana wanted to scream.

“Excuse me.”

Ellana didn’t respond or watch him leave, letting herself slip beneath the water. She held her breath until her lungs began to burn and finally she had to let herself float back up to the top. When her head broke the surface, Solas was gone and she was alone.

Fine.

She looked down at the bottle of soap in her hand and she unscrewed the lid. The familiar scent of elfroot and embriums tickled her nose. That explained what she had smelled earlier.

Fine. If he didn’t want her then…

She took another deep breath and started to wash.

It was all fine.

**Author's Note:**

> All Elvhen came from FenXShiral and their amazing Project Elvhen.
> 
> Lethallan - blood kin, very close female friend
> 
> Pala adahl’en - go fuck a forest
> 
> Etunash - shit
> 
> Ha’hren - old person/elder
> 
> Da'lan - young, female person/child
> 
> Ma serannas - my thanks
> 
> Sathem - pleased/you're welcome
> 
> Telaan - I made a mistake
> 
> Fen’Harel ver’em - Dread Wolf take me
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
